Chapter 49 Too late
SOMA
Sheila and Maeve stand in the corner, stretching as if they belong on a stage. They’ve been dancing for years.
Our instructor enters with a regal composure that makes me stand straighter. She’s tall, with pale white skin and black hair swept into a knot at the top of her head. Her gown is fitted but unrestricted, a garment meant for movement.
“Hello, everyone. This is Year 1, am I right?”
A chorus of “yes” fills the air, and she nods.
“Good. My name is Seraphina Vale. Ms. Vale,” she says. Her voice is smooth and commanding without being harsh. “I’ll be teaching you not only the art of movement, but the grace required of anyone in your station. Dance is more than steps. It’s presence.”
Ms. Vale moves to the front, and I notice the speaker at the corner as she selects a song. The sound filters into the air with a slow yet steady rhythm. She taps her foot to the floor, her head bobbing nonstop before she starts, demonstrating a short sequence of steps.
Simple, she calls it. The ‘easiest’ dance. Something ‘every royal or dignitary is expected to master, for it is the first dance of nearly every gathering and celebration.’
But my feet don’t agree. After her demonstration, she claps and tells us to try, going slow to master it. I stumble through the routine, always a beat too late or turning the wrong way. My cousins glance at one another, barely containing their laughter. But that only encourages me to try again and harder, determined not to give them more reason to sneer.
Ms. Vale is about to introduce the next sequence when the door opens. A group of students files in, their presence immediately thickening the air. Among them is Brynne. His eyes sharpen as he takes in everyone, like he owns the very floor beneath us. Surprisingly, he doesn’t look at me.
“Perfect timing,” Ms. Vale says. “You’re right on time, seniors. This next dance requires partners. Since most or all of the seniors know the routine, they will pair up with a junior.”
Pairs quickly form. My cousins easily find partners, and others slip into place without haste. Eyes slide past my frame, lingering long enough for me to know they’re deliberately avoiding me. Whether it’s my new status or Brynne’s quiet but unwanted presence, no one steps forward.
At the end, there are only two of us left standing apart. The crown prince and I.
Ms. Vale turns to Brynne with a courteous dip of her head. “Your Highness, perhaps you will pair yourself with your lady?”
Heads turn toward him, and I try not to yell out: I’m not his lady to anyone who cares to listen. His gaze darts to me, and he shakes his head with calculated slowness.
“No, I’d rather watch.” The ensuing silence cuts deeper than my cousins’ laughter. Ms. Vale opens her mouth to protest, but Brynne lifts a hand and adds, “For now.”
Her jaw tightens, but she forces a contrite smile as she faces me. “Then your lady will have to perform solo.”
If she thinks that will spur him into action, she’s wrong. Plus, it works in my favor. I nod quickly, relief flooding me.
“That’s fine,” I chirp. “I can do that.”
Anything is better than being in close quarters with that guy and his arrogant smirk inches from my ear.
I’ll stumble alone. I’ll fall alone. But at least I won’t have him pressed against me, peeling me open with every stare, or trying to torture me again.
The song changes, and Ms. Vale picks two older students to demonstrate the new routine. Once she’s done, she dismisses them to their various partners.
“Is it clear?” Many nod, so she says, “If so, repeat what you’ve seen. It’s okay to make mistakes on your first try.”
Taking a steadying breath, I step forward to mimic the first move, my skirts whispering around my thighs.
A hard shoulder knocks into me before I finish the first step, and I stumble, catching myself against the mirrored wall. As soon as my palms slap the glass, I wince.
Some students pause to find out where the noise is coming from, while others continue without missing a beat. I try to push away from the mirror, but a sharp weight pins me down, and someone’s heel grinds into my foot.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sheila’s sweet-as-poison voice coos from beside me. “I didn’t see you there.”
White, hot pain lances upward, and I grit my teeth. She saw me. She always sees me.
“Enough,” Ms. Vale snaps. Her voice cuts through the tittering laughter. “Sheila, do you wish to leave my class, preferably for the rest of the semester?”
Sheila’s lips part like she intends to talk back. But she notices Brynne’s sharp glare, and her mouth shuts.
Ignoring the sting in my foot, I shove myself upright. The ache pulses with every move, another reminder I’m a weak omega with a useless body that’s easy for them to hurt.
The pain sharpens when I press my heel down to test it, forcing a small yelp from my throat before I can stop it.
Ms. Vale swivels toward me, her face softening. “Are you hurt, my lady?”
It stings too much for me to dance. I should say yes. I should sit. But when I glance across the room, I see Brynne, watching me like a predator waiting for the smallest twitch. If he thinks I’ll fold, he’s mistaken.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, forcing out the words through clenched teeth. My ankle throbs as I straighten, but I push the pain down. “I’ll just… continue practicing alone.”
A beat of silence follows. Concerned eyes drift over me, but none of the students speak.
“Ms. Vale, I’d like to join in now.” Brynne’s voice slices through the air, and his twinkling eyes hold mine. “Since Soma doesn’t have a partner, I’ll take my place with her.”
The words hit me with force, and my stomach drops. It’s a trap. He wants to do something I won’t like. My hands fly up in my protest, and I shake my head.
“No, I’m fine. Really, Ms. Vale. I don’t need a partner anymore,” I murmur. She only grimaces, her decision already made. “A solo doesn’t require one.”
Brynne cuts through the space between us. When he stops in front of me, I choke out the word: “Please.”
His grin spreads slowly. “Too late.”
Everyone resumes dancing as his hand closes around my wrist. All they see is the future Luna and her crown prince, but I know I’m in danger. He pulls me away from the mirrors, past the startled looks of the other students.
Fear curls in my belly as he drags me to the far end of the hall. He pushes aside the curtain, and my breath hitches. Behind it is a space I didn’t realize existed, another section of the studio with only mirrors and a couch tucked in the corner.
The curtain sways back into place, cutting us off from the others. My pulse slams in my ears as the world narrows to him and this space he’s claimed.
I… I think I’m doomed.